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      <h1>The Hill</h1>
      <p><i>by </i>Rupert Brooke 
         (3 August 1887
         - 23 April 1915)
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      <p>1912</p>
      <p>Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,<br>Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.<br>You said "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;<br>Wind, sun, and earth remain, and birds sing still,<br>When we are old, are old...." "And when we die<br>All's over that is ours; and life burns on<br>Through other lovers, other lips" said I,<br>"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!"
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      <p>We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.<br>Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;<br>"We shall go down with unreluctant tread<br>Rose-crowned into the darkness!".... Proud we were,<br>And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.<br>-- And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.
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